Directions | Snowyribbons
“I--it's not that. It's--It's the place right near the museum. That place! I know it, it's--” Said location is the on the utter tip of his tongue, yet not completely there. He's practically grasping at straws as he racks his brain, feverishly trying to recall the name of the place he's needing directions to while trying not to embrasse himself at the same time. It's quite the task, let me tell you. This all was on a whim--Emil going on and asking a total stranger to help him with directions in which he should already have memorized. It all made him feel exceedingly inane, like he wasn't fit to be here if he didn't know such a simple thing. He was supposed to be able to do this and know that by this point, yet ceased to. How absolutely discombobulating.
